


My Angel, My Business

by TheBoxedStuffDoesntGetBetterWithAge



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x12 Coda, Brotherhood, Fluff, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 13:58:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBoxedStuffDoesntGetBetterWithAge/pseuds/TheBoxedStuffDoesntGetBetterWithAge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam gets another phonecall before the sheriff actually contacts him. Stuff happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Angel, My Business

Sam and Dean were leaning on the hood of the Impala. It was getting dark and the still, misty air was filled with the constant sound of buzzing traffic. It sucked big time handling a case that involved their friend Garth being a werewolf. A werewolf supposedly trying to lead an honest no-human-hearts-on-the-menu life. Which kind of made it a non-case for Sammy. Except it wasn't, because Dean swore by the old and wise “monsters will be monsters” rule. Sam finally broke the silence,

“OK, Dean, they gave you lunch, pie. Why are we still here?”

Dean kept his eyes firmly facing forward and tried to end this whole episode nice and easy like,

“Yeah, you're right. Yeah, Garth's good.”

He gave an affirming nod, glancing at Sammy, who didn't really look like he was buying it. Still, Dean decided to keep with it,

“You wanna hit the road, it's square by me.”

Sure it was good having his brother there, but he knew that Sam would drag a whole bunch of feelings and moral issues into the game. To Dean it was easy. Werewolves kill humans. It's what they do. They _have_ to satisfy their urge to do so. And no amount of prayer or silver bullet charms was ever going to change that. It was only a matter of time before one of them snaps and gets his snout bloody. And Dean wasn't about to just split and leave it up to chance. He was going to handle this, grab Garth and worry about getting the fact he was right all along through the kid’s thick skull later. That last part did kind of sound like something Sammy could handle better. If he were to stick around. Which he wasn’t. He went with what Dean was expecting,

“Look, I'm just saying this wouldn't be the first time we came across a friendly monster.”

That's true, it wasn't.

“Or a- a family of friendly monsters or whatever this is.”

Oh, boy, did he hope this wouldn't end up in another trip down shady memory lane to Amy, the Kitsune who went vegan. In that moment Sam's phone rang.

“Cas, hi,”

his brother answered casually. Dean shot him a raised-eyebrow side-glare, but Sam was facing forward, listening intently.

“Yeah, no, I'm good. We found Garth. I … Dean's here. We're working together.”

This was… What was this? His brother and Cas being all domestic and checking up on each other?! He kicked Sam in the foot impulsively and made him look at his still surprised face (which he now emphasised with a small twitch of the head, eyebrow faithfully raised). Sammy graced him with an eye roll and mimicked a silent “what” in his direction before he focused back on the conversation, frowning in visible disagreement,

“I don't think so. It's just a job. Garth's a werewolf, by the way.”

Dean listened closer. Would he be able to catch the sound of Cas's voice? He’d never admit it, but he actually missed the weird low rumble of his angel friend. He couldn't hear anything from the direction of the phone, but he could imagine something like a completely neutral _“That is unfortunate.”_ coming from the other end of the line. Obviously Cas offered help, though, since Sam answered,

“No, no, we got this. You do your thing and keep the bunker warm, OK?”

Goddamn Gilmore girls!

“OK. Bye, Cas.”

Sam hung up and looked at Dean who was staring at the floor. He cleared his throat to inform his brother,

“Cas says hi.”

Dean looked away and huffed,

“Yeah, I'm sure. So, what, you two call each other up each night for check-ups now? All cosy and BFF-ed?”

Dean literally had to bite his tongue a bit after that. Still, Sam just shook his head and answered,

“Dean, Cas will always be _your_ angel. You'll always be the righteous man he pulled out of hell. But he's had a taste of humanity now and he's not OK with just being left behind anymore.”

His brother gave him a look that partly blamed and partly pleaded,

“He likes being someone's friend.”

“Well, isn't that sweet, Sammy. I'm sure you two have lots of fun braiding each other’s hair and all…”

“You know what, Dean? Fuck you! You're the one who left us. You put us in the position where our only choice was to keep together or be alone. Besides, the only reason Cas even stayed with me was so that he could continue healing me. He knew it was what you wanted him to do.”

Dean opened his mouth to spit out a response, but decided to hold it back. He had to ask,

“So, you're OK now?”

Sam looked away,

“Yeah, I'm fine.”

He paused.

“You can have him back if you want.”

What? Oh, no. No, sir. No, thank you.

“Yeah, I think I'll pass. I don't really need an awkward angel following me around.”

“Obviously not. You're doing just fine teaming up with Crowley and devil knows who else. And that mark you have… Dean, you don't even know the whole story of what it means yet. I'm sure Cas would…”

“Look, Sam, Cas stays with you. He needs to keep you safe, since I'm not around anymore.”

“Whatever, Dean, I just think you're…”

Sam's phone rings again.

“Agent Perry.”

Apparently it was an unknown number this time.

“Sheriff. How can I help you? Really?”

He motions to Dean that they need to pack up and get their sorry-ass two-man show on the road.

***

They've managed to kill the monstrous bitch that was trying to wolvinize the whole world and the “good” reverend offered them a place to stay for the night (even though the afore mentioned bitch was his (ex) wife). Sammy disappeared to his room without as much as a goodnight and Dean was now lying on the bed in his room, staring at the ceiling. It wasn't the pack of wolves a floor lower that was keeping him up, though. Well, it wasn't _the only thing_ keeping him up. He was poring over the events of the past day when another thought started making its way through the wheels and cogs to the forefront. _Cas._ This was nothing new. Dean has had this same problem ever since he turned his back on the two most important people in his life that rainy night on that bridge. And time after time he blocked the thought out and forced himself to think of other stuff. He couldn't risk Cas hearing him. He was supposed to stay with Sam and heal him. This night however was different. Sam was well and fast asleep in the next room, so, at least in that regard, Dean's mind was free to wonder. He allowed the thought of Cas to overflow him and he might even have wished for him to come visit. Well, maybe not so much wished as asked for him to do so.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas…”

Dean left out a breath of relief like he wasn't sure, if he still deserved such a visit. As if something major was riding on (and was now decided upon) the fact whether Cas showed up or failed to do so. He sat up and looked at him as if the angel's next words might either make him or break him. Cas tilted his head slightly,

“I came as soon as I heard your call.”

There was something so familiar and comforting in those words that Dean immediately jumped up, took three long strides that were separating him from the angel and hugged Cas with all he had. He squeezed him tightly, too tightly, he thought, perhaps for a human being to handle, and left out a huff of surprise when Cas instantly hugged back. The tight embrace suddenly relaxed into what Dean thought was a warm and comfortable (albeit weird) honest-to-god _cuddle_ when Cas suddenly jumped back grabbing on to Dean's right hand and pulling the sleeve up. He stared at the red mark brandishing Dean's forearm.

“Is that … what I think it is?”

Dean jerked his arm back, but wasn't able to escape the angel’s tight grip or the piercing stare he had fixed on the red stain.

“Well, unless you were thinking a freaky kitchen accident…”

“You bare the Mark of Cain.”

Cas finally let go, so Dean quickly rolled his sleeve back down and looked away.

“Yeah, uh, got it from the man himself.”

Cas’s eyes shot up.

“You _met_ Cain?”

“Yeah. Me and Crowley, we…”

“You worked with _Crowley_?”

“Man, am I gonna have to use the “better the devil you know” line on everyone? Yeah, me and Crowley. We kinda teamed up to find a way to kill Abaddon.”

“And you got yourself branded a killer by none other than the father of murder in the process. How do you not see working with Crowley is always a bad idea?”

“Yeah, well. I was told it was the only way to kill Abaddon. Knights of hell are a hard thing to gank, you know.”

Cas pulled Dean close by his arm, now looking straight into his eyes from a no longer comfortable distance.

“You foolish creature. Why do you keep doing this? Why is it always your place to take on the biggest burdens of history? You're just a man, Dean.”

“Yeah, well… Most men are. Besides, better me than Sammy.”

“The point you fail to see again and again is that it doesn't have to be _either_ of you.”

“Whatever, Cas, that's not what I want to talk about right now… I wanted to say thanks ... you know, ugh ... for taking care of Sammy.”

Cas did not want the subject to change, but he knew that with Dean he hardly had another choice. He'd just have to wait for the hunter to be ready to talk to him. He gave a small nod,

“I was glad I could take care of your brother, Dean.”

They stood in silence for a while when Dean finally decided to sit back down on the bed and motioned to Cas that he should do the same.

“I was thinking, Cas… I’m gonna… I wanna ask Sammy to stick with me for a while again. To hunt.”

“I think that's a wise idea, Dean.”

“Huh! I’m not sure how you’re gonna like this, but Crowley was trying to convince me of the same thing,”

Dean smirked.

“And I am sure he had his less than noble reasons for wanting to do so.”

“Yeah. I'm just... It's just that I'm not sure Sammy will _want_ to.”

“Sam is going to want to stay with you, Dean. Of course.”

“And you wouldn't mind? He told me you're different now. That you kinda like having company.”

Cas took a moment to consider Dean's words, then continued,

“It is true that I feel more at ease, when I am surrounded by people I can call friends. But, the bigger part of me is still an angel. I will be fine. As long as I know that you two are fine as well, of course.”

“You could stay with us. For a while. It's kinda nice sometimes. Having you around.”

The offer seemed to have caught Cas of guard and he looked at Dean with such awe, it actually made Dean's eyes water. He put a hand on the angel’s shoulder. Cas inspected it, seemingly unphased, then fixed his gaze back on Dean and slowly covered the hand gently squeezing his shoulder with his opposite one, giving it a single hesitant pat, just to be sure.

“I would like that very much, Dean. But I think it's better for me to keep looking for Gadreel and Metatron. I will keep you informed of my progress, though. And you can always call when you need me.”

Dean felt the time when Cas would zap out was nigh and he did not feel comfortable with that at all. He hadn't seen his angel in too long and it was all too soothing how quickly they've eased back into their old routine. There was no way it was the same for Sam and Cas on their own, right? Cas did say that one time that it was Dean and him who shared the more profound bond (or whatever he called it, it's not like Dean memorised it or anything). His hand grabbed the wrist of the one covering it and he pulled it gently toward him, settling them both on top of the bed. He was looking down at the floor when he started,

“Cas. Could you… Would you stay with me for the night? I mean watch over me or whatever? You, know, do your angel thing.” Cas looked down at their hands and then back up at the hunter who was now looking straight at him, but not quite in his usual uncomfortable Winchester way. There was an openness to it that made Cas's grace answer in soft vibrations.

“Of course Dean.”

He got up and watched the hunter lie down on his side facing him, then went around the bed to sit on the chair by the table. Long minutes of silence were pierced only by Dean's random deep breaths as Cas caught himself sitting on the edge of his seat, practically hovering over his charge. In that moment Dean turned around to look at him,

“You know, this might actually be _less_ weird if you just came here and lay down. Or something. Whatever.”

Cas barely caught himself falling off his chair and had to take a moment to recover. He stood up, observing Dean's silhouette for a while. The hunter was once again showing his back to him, his body tight as a string. Cas sat down on the edge of the bed and carefully eased back on the pillow with a small sigh, making absolutely sure not to touch the body lying next to him. Then, in a swift but decisive movement, the hunter turned around, reached over the angel to grab his left hand with his right one and flung it over his waist, making Cas press tightly along his back. And then. Dean. Snuggled. (Shut up!)

“So, Sammy taught you how to hug, huh?”

he asked the angel almost too quietly.

“He did,”

Cas nodded into the back of Dean’s neck. “Although I find it barely takes any effort on my part anymore. It just kind of happens now that I understand the mechanics of it.”

“Yeah,” Dean murmured, rolling his eyes under his eyelids, maybe, just maybe, snuggling a little closer. (Shut. Up!)

***

He woke up the next morning alone again, but for the first time in a very long while, not lonely. The left side of the bed was still warm with the memory of another body occupying it and his right hand was left tingling from the grip that was wrapped tightly over it all night. Right in the spot where Cain's mark reminded him of the task that still lay ahead. His fingers traced the scarred lines of his new red reminder.

He's going to tell Sam he's sorry for bailing.

He's going to ask him to stick close for a while.

He has no right to do it, but he can’t not try.

**Author's Note:**

> I coda-ed. Help!


End file.
